Best 247 quotes in «humourous quotes» category

Humour is the last resort of the defeated...

I always carry the book of Holy Writ...and something to read...

I believe in the 20/80 rule. That's where working an extra 20% faster, harder, or smarter gets you an extra 80% of the rewards.

I believe in love. Unfortunately, it doesn't believe me. Lust, on the other hand, is a nagging wife poking constantly at my DNA.

Click. The salamander flared, etching the room with searing white light and dark shadows. Otto screamed. He fell to the floor, clutching at his throat. He sprang to his feet, goggle-eyed and gasping, and staggered, knock-kneed and wobbly-legged, the length of the room and back again. He sank down behind a desk , scattering paperwork with a wildly flailing hand. "Aarghaarghaaaargh..." There was a shocked silence. Otto stood up, adjusted his cravat, and dusted himself off. Only then did he look up at the row of shocked faces. "Vel?" he said sternly. "Vat are you all looking at? It is just a normal reaction, zat is all. I am vorking on it. Light in all its forms is mine passion. Light is my canvas, shadows are my brush." But strong light hurts you!" said Sacharissa. "It hurts vampires!" "Yes. It iss a bit of a bugger, but zere you go.

I didn't realize he was a drunk driver,' I said. 'The other superheroes inferred it was just a regular, random guy you were trying to force a taco onto. But still' - I indicate the nearby crack dealers - 'the Taco Incident surely demonstrates how things can inadvertently spiral.

I don’t suppose you’d want to go destroy some evil, would you? the voice said. I’m not really sure what that means, to be honest. I’ll just trust you to decide.

If we go on in this way, we shall have a new art of poetry, of which one of the first rules will be: To remember to forget that there are any such things as sunshine and music in the world.

I felt my heart flutter on seeing her. Either I was in love or last night's whisky and finger chips were causing acidity.

I have seen many a face that was more good-looking — never one that looked half so good.

I had an aunt named 'abnormal Shauna' once. But she passed away in an unfortunate cliff-top interpretative dance and fireworks accident.

If you like to swallow him, for his sister's sake, you may; but I've no sauce that will make him go down.

If you're not smarter than your phone, then you aren't smart at all.

I love you and your hate-spouting, utterly intolerant lovely little toad! Are you sure he is really the one and the only god? For, even an idiot could have done a better job, choosing a more sane little bugger off the road.

I love you all - if you are not people!

I'm not bloody well going to have it, understand?" Vimes shouted, shaking the ape back and forth. "Oook," the Librarian pointed out, patiently. "What? Oh. Sorry." Vimes lowered the ape, who wisely didn't make an issue out of it because a man angry enough to lift 300 pounds of orangutan without noticing is a man with too much on his mind.

I'm sure the Bursar would not agree with those figures," said the Senior Wrangler sourly. "That is so,' said Ponder, "but I'm afraid that is because he regards the decimal point as a nuisance.

I’m so sorry.” I was babbling again. He just held me tighter. His low growls started in my ear. “I told the boys we shouldn’t be friends with girls,” he muttered. “I told them that they’re mean, and will do things like break our hearts and scare the shit of out us.” His deep words washed over the room. I heard a few chuckles. When he pulled back I examined his tense features. “When did you tell them that?” I asked. Jacob snorted. “Remember when we were five and you stole Max’s piece of cake. Right around then.

In my body’s effort to conserve itself, rather than attempt any movement outside, I have begun eating more sugar than is good for me. Sugar, while a comfort to many, is a detriment to those with my various physical complaints, and even a spoonful could plunge me into violent agony. It is a pleasurable agony, at least, and in my depression and desperation to have anything that resembled nutrition, I ate half a jar of chocolate spread. I know I should not buy these things. I seldom give in to such cibarious cagmaggery, even when it is On Sale, but when summer is imminent, I will do anything to feel better, including eat something that will make me regret my folly. I am currently crippled on the floor and awaiting death, or I am lately dead and have taught my undead form to use a keyboard, I cannot tell which. I am no longer hot, however, and there is some comfort, whether I am dead or alive. I would rather be alive, I think, if only to buy more chocolate spread.

I'm sorry, honey. I'm sure if you were a terrorist, you'd make a wonderful one

In short, not only was it surprising to be greeted in person with such enthusiastic words, but it was doubly surprising when the person reciting these words displayed the same kind of disengagement as, say, the checkout clerk who utters the words 'Have a nice day' while her expression indicates that it's really a matter of total indifference to her whether you drop dead in the parking lot outside ten seconds from now.

Inspirations sleet through the universe continuously. Their destination, as if they cared, is the right mind in the right place at the right time. They hit the right neuron, there's a chain reaction, and a little while later someone is blinking furiously in the TV lights and wondering how the hell he came up with the idea of pre-sliced bread in the first place. Leonard of Quirm knew about inspirations. One of his earliest inventions was an earthed metal nightcap, worn in the hope that the damned things would stop leaving their white-hot trails across his tortured imagination. It seldom worked. He knew the shame of waking up to find the sheets covered with nocturnal sketches of seige engines for apple-peeling machines.

I put the cup down and gave Neha a hard stare, showing her I was not amused. If I wanted to get insulted by a fat woman over bad food, I would have just flown Air India.

I really didn't write it with any intention of being published. If I'd known that was going to happen, I would have written something more sensible, because now I have to dress up as a pirate for book signings... I would have done a novel about a man who hangs around with a gaggle of models.

I said never mix business with pleasure. They said it was a pleasure doing business with me.

I shall fear not. According to the Testament of Mezerek, the fisherman Nonpo spent four days in the belly of a giant fish," said Constable Visit. The thunder seemed particularly loud in the silence. "Washpot, are we talking miracles here?" said Reg eventually. "Or just a very slow digestive process?

Is that the drink with the vodka? Because- " "No," said Lady Margolotta quietly. "This, I am afraid, is the other kind. Still, ve have that in common, don't ve? Neither of us drinks...alcohol. I believe you vere an alcoholic, Sir Samuel." "No," said Vimes, completely taken aback. "I was a drunk. You have to be richer than I was to be an alcoholic.

Is that you, Sergeant Angua?" said a voice in the gloom. A lantern was open, and lit the approaching face of Constable Visit. As he drew near, she could just make out the thick wad of pamphlets under his other arm. "Hello, Washpot," she said. "What's up?" "...looks like a twist of lemon..." said a damp voice from the shadows. "Mister Vimes sent me to search the bars of iniquity and low places of sin for you," said Visit. "And the literature?" said Angua. "By the way, the words "nothing personal" could have so easily been added to that last sentence.

I stepped away from the car preparing my own smile because you catch more flies with honey than you do with shit.

It had to be asked, even though I was almost certain I was the special cupcake of the year.

The tincture of night began to diffuse the soup of the afternoon. Lord Vetinari considered the sentence, and found it good. He liked 'tincture' particularly. Tincture. Tincture. It was a distinguished word, and pleasantly countered by the flatness of 'soup'. Yes. In which may well be found the croutons of teatime.

I thought dwarfs loved gold," said Angua. "They just say that to get it into bed.

It is the quintessential story about perseverance but also about our humanness. We tend to regard ourselves as super-human, but the moment we detect a flaw we crash and lose confidence. We'd rather die than admit failure. Yet God compels us to dust ourselves off and fight another day. Like he does with James Bond.

It is true money will not buy you real happiness, but as a personal preference I would much rather have an angry strangle wank in the comfort of a private jet en route to Monte Carlo, than in a broom closet in the basement of a seedy crack house in Bangkok

It was a beautiful, clear Southern California kind of Christmas Eve, the kind where Santa shows up in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and shades, flashing a peace sign with one hand and sipping a Corona with the other.

It was funny how people were people everywhere you went, even if the people concerned weren't the people the people who made up the phrase "people are people everywhere" had traditionally thought of as people.

It was possible she’d been too focused on her need for another cocktail to realize we were witnessing one of the portents of the apocalypse. ”The Luidaeg is singing Disney songs.

It was possibly the most circumspect advance in the history of military manoeuvres, right down at the bottom end of the scale that things like the Charge of the Light Brigade are at the top of.

It would be like The Rock versus Seth Green. Now, tell me who he is

I've nothing against people. Just a***oles. But then, most people are.

Karen Andersen was a private investigator with a healthy dose of imagination. So when her phone went off while carrying out a pretend parry riposte, in her mind she was Diana Rigg from the Avengers.

Like your fancied god up there, my pal up nowhere, Mr. NOT, says if you do not prostrate and accept me as your latest and newest messiah, he will so kick your butt that you will neither be in hell nor in heaven but nowhere, like your fancied pal up there.

Listen, I'm sorry to bother you when you're obviously busy with, uh, important things, " B. J. Says. He sounds sarcastic. "But you remember a few months ago, when we scored that pot for Brian Turner?" "Sort of, " I say, wondering if it would be going too far to call B. J. "pookie" or "schmooper. " I want Courtney to be jealous, but I also don't want her thinking I'm a pussy. Which is really fucked up, since, you know, I'm the one that broke up with her.

I get this buzz every time I'm quoted online. The ego high... yes... but also a Google Alert.

Love turns men into boys; heartache turns boys into men.

Look down, your grace," said Skimmer. "Mhm, mhm." Vimes realized he could feel the faintest prick of a knife blade on his stomach. "Look down further," he said. Inigo looked down. He swallowed. Vimes had a knife, too. "You really are no gentleman, then," he said. "Make a sudden move and neither are you," said Vimes.

Love is a hook; the moment a man swallows it, a woman knows she has him forever.

Lyre: Ash, my friend, you have a lot to learn about women. Ash: Why force it out of her if she doesn’t want to talk about it? Lyre: Because women like to stew about sh*t that could otherwise be sorted in no time. If you’d just talked to her a couple of cycles ago, she wouldn’t have had this time to get worked up about it. Then, you could have focused on getting her worked up in other ways.

Moral," said Vale."That's an interesting adjective to apply to 'genocide'.

Mark Twain said the difference between the right word and the almost right word is like the difference between lightning and the lightning bug, and people think he was good, right ? Didn't write any decent characters, as far as I can tell, but otherwise fine.